


True Stripes

by bestliars



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Crossdressing, Dirty Talk, Friendship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-08
Updated: 2015-10-08
Packaged: 2018-04-25 11:13:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4958290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bestliars/pseuds/bestliars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The best thing about having a best friend is that they love you because of the ways you're weird, not despite it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	True Stripes

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t know. This was chatfic first. It’s probably C’s fault...
> 
> Thanks to Audrey for looking it over <3\. Remaining mistakes are my own.

In July Jonas buys a striped dress. He doesn’t usually wear dresses, but he wants to try it, and stripes are his comfort place. He likes striped shirts, and striped sweaters, and striped boxers, and striped socks. He's gone shopping with Zuck before, and has been told that he's stuck in a rut. He's okay with that though. Stripes are his thing. 

So it makes a lot of sense that the first dress he buys for himself is striped. He buys it off the internet, after a lot of deliberation. He had to measure around his chest to figure out what size he would want, and even now he isn't sure, he can only hope. It would be so disappointing to go through so much trouble, to have spent so much time thinking about it, and then not have the dress fit. 

He waits, trying to be patient, for a whole long week, before it arrives in the mail. It's there waiting when he leaves in the morning, but he can't stop and open it. He's meeting Oscar before training, and he doesn't want to be late. 

When he gets home, after a good workout, and a nice lunch, he makes himself wait a little bit longer. He could still change his mind. He doesn't have to try it on. No one would know to call him cowardly. 

He lies down for a while first, but is too restless to sleep. Then he checks instagram. And then he opens the goddamn box.

He takes it out, and spreads in out on his bed. It’s a very pretty dress. The thick black-and-white stripes contrast with the skinny blue stripes of his bedspread. It would probably look even better not lying on his bed.

He gets undressed, shucking his jeans and t-shirt, leaving them on the floor. He stands at the foot of the bed in his boxers, staring down at the dress.

It’s only one item of clothing.

It’s appealing to him that not only is it one garment, but a whole outfit. He can wear the dress, and nothing else. It can be all he needs.

He picks the dress up, and holds it against his body. The fabric is soft, and slightly stretchy. It seems like the dress will fit very well. It seems like it will stick to the subtle curves of his body, not just hang there.

He won’t know for sure unless he tries it on. In the end curiosity makes him brave. He pulls the dress on over his head, pulls it down, adjusts how it sits over his hips.

It feels good. He looks at himself in the full length mirror, and thinks it looks alright, but that isn’t really the point. He doesn’t care how long it makes his legs look, or how the neckline cuts across the muscles of his chest. He cares that it feels good.

It’s stretchy, and soft. It clings differently than his other clothes, and is loose in other ways. He walks around the room, enjoying the way it moves with him, the way the skirt swirls. 

He sits down on the end of his bed, and tries crossing his legs at the ankle. He feels very proper. Too proper, possibly. That feels too much like pretend.

He crosses his legs like he might usually, with his left ankle resting on his right knee. That isn’t right either. It’s comfortable, but it isn’t right. It’s too drafty, and he feels exposed.

He crawls up the bed, and curls on his side. He’s tired from his morning workout, and lying in bed seems so nice. It’s a very comfortable dress. He likes the way it lies beside him, spreading out around his hips. He smooths it out, so the fabric is flat against his bedspread. He lies there for a while, feeling comfortable, and tired, and safe. He closes his eyes, and thinks about how he’s wearing a dress. Time feels like it’s going slower, and if he stays like this he’ll fall asleep. That isn’t a terrible idea, but he doesn’t want the dress to get wrinkled.

Instead he stands up, and takes one last look at himself in the mirror. He doesn’t look any different than before, he’s only wearing a dress. It looks good. It feels better.

He watches his reflection as he changes — there he is in his dress, and then there’s nothing, only darkness as it’s going over his head, and then there he is again, in his boxers, with the dress in his hands. Nothing has changed. It hasn’t left a mark on his body.

He hangs the dress neatly in his closet. This was good, and he’s going to try it again. This is going to be something he does now. He’s going to wear dresses, and feel comfortable, and figure out the rest as he goes along.

**~ ~ ~**

Wearing a dress feels nice, but lying on his bed isn't quite enough. How to wear dresses as a mostly grown up young man is something he’s still discovering. He’s comfortable enough just hanging out in his apartment in a dress, but he’s comfortable hanging out in his apartment wearing holey boxers and mismatched socks. He doesn’t really care what he wears when he’s home alone. Wearing a dress alone in his apartment is almost too low stress, he isn’t even sure if it counts. It isn’t really getting him what he wants out of wearing a dress. 

That's why he decides to try wearing his dress around Oscar. He needs to step it up a bit, and Oscar won’t care about what he’s wearing, and is always good company.

He used to wear dresses around Oscar, but not since they were little and had to play dress up with their sisters. Jonas didn’t have a ton of choice about what he wore then, but there were definitely some princess dresses involved.

Jonas’s dress now is not a princess dress. It’s very sensible. It’s an everyday dress, or it could be, for someone who wears dresses every day. That isn't where Jonas is right now. He's just hanging out, with Oscar, who is his best friend. Oscar is into Jonas no matter what. He can wear anything, terrible things, leggings tucked into his socks. Oscar will still treat him the same.

They work out together, and get lunch, and then Oscar comes over to watch movies and hang out. 

They get settled sitting next to each other on the couch. Oscar’s on the left, Jonas is on the right, just as if they were on the ice together. Jonas gets to sit closer to Oscar than he'd let himself be with anyone else. Oscar is sprawled against him, solid and warm. 

Oscar’s very cute, and his hair is messy. Jonas trusts him more than anyone else. He leans over, and messes up Oscar’s hair, which makes Oscar complain, and then he kisses Oscar on the cheek, just because he can, and because it leaves Oscar startled and blushing, even though it shouldn't anymore. 

No matter what, they’ll have this. Nothing Jonas wants will change the ways they fit together.

Jonas says, “I’ll be right back,” and then goes into his room to change.

His dress is hanging neatly in the closet. Putting it on isn’t intimidating anymore. He knows how good it feels. 

It feels good enough that he can go back to the living room without worry. The dress is comfortable. Oscar is comfortable. Everything will be good, or better. 

When Jonas walks back into the room Oscar is looking at him like he's something worth looking at, but Oscar looks at him like that plenty. Oscar doesn't say anything about the dress. Good. Jonas doesn't want to say anything either. He just wants to settle back in, sitting on the couch, with Oscar on his left, just like they belong. 

They had already decided on what to watch, and now Jonas presses play. It isn't a very good movie, but they don't need it to be. They settle, leaning into each other as the show goes on. 

As the afternoon wears on Jonas notices Oscar _looking at him_ , and at his dress specifically. It isn’t a normal look, it’s a _look._ Jonas knows this look — this how Oscar gets flustered when he thinks something is hot. Jonas didn’t really mean for this to be hot, he didn’t think Oscar would be into this more than he’s into Jonas generally. But alright, that’s interesting.

Jonas isn’t sure he wants it to be sexy. He isn’t necessarily opposed to it, but he should probably explain to Oscar that he wasn’t trying to be hot? That it isn’t really a sex thing for him? But he isn’t really sure what it is for him, just an experiment, and he doesn’t know how to explain that.

He figures they can just hang out for now, and see what happens. They were going to spend the afternoon hanging around and watching movies, they can still do that even if Oscar’s into him wearing a dress.

It’s nice. The dress is stretchy and comfortable. He likes how it feels, and he always like leaning against Oscar on the couch, and he likes how Oscar is looking at him, all curious and interested. Oscar’s looking at his legs, which he hasn’t shaved but the hair is pale enough to not make much of an impression.

Jonas should say something though. Oscar’s his best friend. They hook up too, but more importantly Oscar is his best friend in the whole world. That means he doesn’t have to tell Oscar things if he doesn’t want to. He can get away with being quiet, and Oscar won’t mind. But it also means he can say anything to Oscar. Whatever he says, Oscar will still be his best friend.

They hang out for a while, watch a movie, cuddle, and it’s nice. The movie ends. The credits are rolling, and Jonas figures now might as well be as good a time as any?

“Are you going to ask about the dress?” he asks Oscar.

“Um.” Oscar seems uncertain. “Do you want me to?” Oscar asks.

Jonas shrugs. He isn’t sure.

Oscar nods. “Alright then. But, um. You look really nice.”

“Um. Thank you.” Jonas smiles, and hopefully that’s enough to let Oscar know that he appreciated being told so. But that’s enough talk for now. He nestles back against Oscar’s chest and they put on another movie.

They cuddle for a while, Jonas is so comfortable and happy. He likes to know that the comfort of the dress can co-exist with the comfort of being with Oscar. It wouldn't be so bad to tell Oscar. He'll have to eventually. 

What he decides to say is, "I didn't decide to wear a dress to look pretty. I just thought it would be comfortable."

"Oh," Oscar says. "Is it?"

"Yes?" It feels good, physically, but that wouldn’t be enough of a reason. Wearing a dress means he’s breaking the rules.

He’s wearing something that boys aren’t supposed to wear, and that feels good. There are a lot of rules about what boys are supposed to be, and Jonas doesn’t think he wants to be anything else, but sometimes the rules itch and wearing a dress makes it feel a bit better. Or at least that’s the best way Jonas has found to think about it. He’s glad Oscar isn’t asking him to explain.

Instead Oscar just says, "That's good," and grins. 

"Uh-huh." Jonas likes Oscar so much. Oscar doesn't make him explain himself, he trusts that Jonas will tell him what he needs to know. 

"Does it bother you that I think you look nice in the dress? If it isn't sexual for you, do you care, if, um..." Oscar’s stammering, just a little bit, like he might be worried. It’s cute.

"I don't care. You're always into me, right?"

"Yeah," Oscar says. "But, like, especially. It's...kind of... Yeah."

Jonas can feel heat and color rushing to his cheeks.

"I like you enough that I don't mind," he says. If it was someone else, who was only interested in him wearing dresses, that'd be a problem, but it's Oscar. There's a lot more to them than that. 

They cuddle for a while longer. They don't have any other plans for the day other than finding something for dinner. This might be the best part of summer. 

It's a while later when Oscar says, "So, um. Odd question, but what are you wearing under the dress?"

"Boxer briefs," Jonas says. "Boring black boxer briefs." They’re very comfortable.

"Oh,” Oscar says, disappointed.

"That's not really the answer you were hoping for, was it?" Jonas asks.

"Ahh. Ummm. Maybe not," Oscar says, and he's blushing so bright.

Jonas wants to tease him, very badly. That’s an instinct from their childhood that he hasn’t outgrown. But he stops himself, because as much as teasing Oscar might be comfortable and fun, he thinks actually following whatever this is might be even better. "I could wear something other than boxers, if you'd like that?” Jonas offers. “It wouldn't really do anything for me, but I'd be into you being into me, so I could."

"You really? I. Yes?” Oscar seems so happy and surprised, which Jonas doesn’t understand. Of course he’d be willing to try something like this. “Yes. And like, anything, I'd be...whatever you want, we could try that too."

Jonas doesn't even know what he might ask for. He'll have to think about it. This could be exciting — more exciting than it is already, which seems remarkable. This is already so good.

He climbs into Oscar's lap, wanting to be closer, getting comfy. It's odd, how the fabric of dress stretches when he spreads his legs. It starts riding up, getting pushed even farther when Oscar's hands settle on his thighs. 

He puts his hand on Oscar's neck, and Oscar tilts his head back. Jonas leans in to kiss him. 

Oscar is so sweet, and so into him. Jonas loves how effortless it is between them. 

"God, your legs, Jonas. Skater’s thighs are a beautiful thing."

Jonas pulls away, so Oscar can see how the face he’s making, the way he’s wrinkling his nose. "You have them too, dork."

"Yeah, but I'm not wearing a fucking dress," Oscar says. That is a good point.

"Not now, but you could be."

"If you want me to I would."

Jonas doesn't think that's something he wants, but he appreciates the offer. He doesn't know what to say. It's easier to kiss Oscar again. 

"I like your legs so much,” Oscar says. “Your long legs, and your stupid bony knees, and your stupid strong thighs, and your ass — god, fuck, your ass."

Oscar likes to talk a lot. Jonas doesn't know if he's really worth listening too, but it's nice to hear, comforting. Jonas just likes kissing Oscar’s neck while Oscar babbles.

"I like your ass just about any way, but now I'm thinking about it covered in satin, or lace. A little bow right on the top. I'd get your cock so hard it'd be straining against the waistband, peeking out the top. I'd get my mouth on the head, hold that ribbon in my teeth, pull the elastic back, then just swallow you down, with my hands on your ass, between the skin and those fucking panties."

How much Oscar likes to talk is very useful when they're thousands of miles away from each other, limited to sexts, dirty calls, and skype when they're lucky. Jonas isn't nearly so good at talking, but he tries. He's a good listener anyway. Oscar says he likes how Jonas breathes. That's something. Oscar says a lot of stuff Jonas doesn't quite believe. 

Not the sex stuff though — Jonas knows Oscar will follow through with that. They’re very good at sex. They’re good at moving their hips together, touching each other. This is how Jonas learned about sex — lying with Oscar on the couch, figuring out what sort of things they liked. Really, it’s an ongoing process, they’re still learning. 

"Or even just plain cotton panties, if they were real tight, and a bright color instead of all this boring black. Red panties, something with stars or hearts all over the ass. Or damn — stripes. You'd like that."

Jonas laughs, but it's true, that does sound nice, right in his comfort zone.

"White with navy stripes. I know you. You're predictable. Hot, but predictable."

"And you're predictably into me."

"Oh, absolutely,” Oscar agrees. “I'm not complaining, just stating a fact. You and your fucking stripes. You've even got me wearing them."

"Yeah, it's hot." Jonas loves Oscar wearing striped sweaters that stretch across his chest and around the muscles of his arms. He loves it even more when the sweater is extra tight, not fitting correctly because it’s something he stole from Jonas’s wardrobe. 

"I can wear anything and make it hot. Or nothing. But you and your fucking stripes. Hell — striped stockings. Fuck me."

"We can do that," Jonas says. He is open to suggestion, when it comes to Oscar.

"I'm gonna hold you to that. Fucking me while wearing stripy stockings. Might need a garter to hold them up. This keeps on getting better and better."

“Yes, but we don’t have stockings now, and only boring underwear, which we should probably take off,” Jonas says. He always has to be the one to suggest things like this. Oscar has lots of grand ideas, but Jonas is the one stuck saying, yes, that’s very nice, but now put your hand on my cock please.

Oscar smirks at him, being very cute. Jonas scowls. But then Oscar reaches under Jonas’s skirt, sliding a hand further up, reaching into Jonas’s boxers, and starting to jerk him off. Jonas can’t keep scowling. He holds onto Oscar’s shoulder and breathes heavily into his ear.

Oscar is still talking, mouth pressed close to Jonas’s neck, mumbling something. Jonas is far past caring about what Oscar says. He can tell from the tone that it’s all good things, “so hot, so pretty, so lucky that I get to see you like this, so goddamn pretty.” It’s all nonsense, that fades away, nothing compared to how good it feels.

It shouldn’t be so much. It’s just Oscar’s hand on him. It’s far from new — it’s incredibly familiar. This is what sex was — they’ve learned other things, but this was the beginning. They’re so comfortable here.

Oscar knows just how to touch him, and it’s better than doing it himself, because there’s an element of surprise. It’s good enough to forget about everything else: the dress, the future, any favors, having to leave for different cities at the end of the summer. None of that matters right now.

There are a lot of things Jonas isn't sure of — about the world, and about himself, but this — this is good. To kiss Oscar, and have Oscar kiss him and touch him; they fit together nicely. 

It doesn't take much more until he's coming in Oscar's hand, shaking a little. Oscar is saying something, "so good, so pretty," but so what? Oscar says all sorts of things, but it's more important what he does. Jonas loves him so much.

He rests his head against Oscar’s, the sides of their faces pressed together. Jonas is so comfortable, content to just sit like this and breathe heavily. Oscar allows it for a moment, before turning so they can kiss. Jonas still feels unsteady, he can’t kiss back properly, but he can open his mouth and let Oscar in. He doesn’t try to hold back any sounds.

It feels like he’s floating, only tethered where Oscar’s holding onto him, hands fisted in Jonas’s dress. 

Oscar’s hard on is pressed between them, and they should do something about that, but he can’t yet, still lost in the kiss and his own pleasure. Oscar can be patient, for a little bit longer.

Oscar is good at being patient, which is good, because sometimes Jonas moves at his own pace. Some people get annoyed by that, but it’s always comfortable with Oscar. Jonas can trust him.

Jonas trusts Oscar so much, loves him fiercely, in a way that isn’t as complicated as it seems. Oscar is one of the more simple things in his life, which he appreciates.

He wants to show Oscar how much he is appreciated.

He slips down the couch, moving to sit comfortably between Oscar’s legs.

Oscar swears. Jonas smiles at him.

Jonas knows Oscar just as well as Oscar knows him. He can close his eyes, and know what Oscar looks like, mouth hanging open, breathing heavily. Oscar’s hand comes up to cradle the side of his face — Jonas presses into the touch.

He doesn’t stop. It is so easy to take Oscar apart. Oscar is so easy for him. Today Oscar might be swept away by Jonas’s fashion choice, but even without that they’re still this good together. Intimacy comes easy. Being normal about each other is hard enough that they’ve mostly stopped trying.

Oscar is still talking, making even less sense than usual. It’s still nice to hear that he’s good at this, that he looks good down here, that Oscar loves him. It isn’t all mumbled nonsense.

Oscar warns that he’s about to come. Jonas keeps going. He doesn’t want to make a mess and he doesn’t mind the taste.

Jonas opens his eyes to look at Oscar, who looks stunned and so pretty.

He takes a minute to appreciate this.

Jonas climbs back onto the couch, pushing Oscar back they can lie squished beside each other. They only barely fit, but Oscar wraps his arm around Jonas’s waist so he won’t fall. It’s comfortable enough.

“That was good,” Oscar says.

Jonas nods, and presses his lips against Oscar’s neck. He feels so good — sleepy and satisfied, lying next to Oscar, wearing his pretty striped dress. They’re good together. This feels certain.

“I’m gonna get you all dressed up someday,” Oscar says.

Jonas nods again. That’ll be fun. Being with Oscar is fun. Being with Oscar is safe. There are other things that Jonas is still figuring out, but he knows this. They’ll figure the rest of it out eventually.


End file.
